


Ma Petite Celine

by VitaLupum



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Child Death, Gen, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaLupum/pseuds/VitaLupum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody attempts to leave their old life behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma Petite Celine

His hands played over the few items in the tiny, battered trunk.

The teddy bear, with one leg patched where the bullet had hit it. Normally he would have gotten a new one – normally he would not have cuddly toys within a hundred yards of him, but when it was the only memory he had of his sister, patching it was the only clear course. It stared up at him now with one reproachful black bead eye – he remembered when she had accidentally swallowed it and he had been the only one to know the Heimlich manoeuvre – and he lay it down reverentially.

Then, the bible. Again, property of somebody else – his mother. She had told him to pray whenever he could not find the answer to a problem. It had never helped, but she had been oddly proud when she walked in on him asking God to bring back his goldfish. She had not hit him, at any rate, which at eight years old had been more of a blessing and miracle than any goldfish revival.

Next, his red tie with the geometric patterns. His father's. He had been a small man, compared to his mother, with eyes like milk in water and a habit of nervously licking the underside of his moustache. After Celine had been beaten to death with a wooden spoon, nonetheless - he had lost that habit. He had also lost the habit of speaking, walking, showing emotion, and had later gained the habit of falling from bridges into rivers.

Next, Celine's ABC book, with the stain of blood that would never come off. He remembered how she had cried and cried and wept and wailed as the wooden spoon came up again and again, and how her relief as it had snapped had changed to shock as up came the butt of the rifle. He reached up to below his left eye, and felt the scar that ran the length of his cheekbone. He had had no choice. Celine was lying there, most beautiful eyes of  _azure_  flickering as the life left her tiny, four-year-old body, and so was the knife.

The knife. Ah, that went in too, with his last name inscribed on the handle. If this were to be destroyed or mislaid, the last hope of identifying him would be gone. He would lose himself, lose everything he had ever been. He would be invisible. He stared at it as it lay on top of the cardboard book, and smiled.

The last was his school picture. He stood there, ruddy face obvious despite the monochromatic nature of the photograph, black hair tousled and determined to stand up to the wind that had been accosting him, and that dreadful school uniform. Blazers, shorts and neckerchiefs? That was criminal in itself.

He shut the case, and dragged it outside to the boot of the rather ordinary car, which sat in the driveway like an ugly yet amiable toad. Slamming the trunk shut, he folded his long limbs into the driver's seat, and looked at the piece of paper.

"Foggia "Gino Lisa" Airport, Foggia, Apulia, Italy," he read to himself, and nodded. That was where he was due to meet her in two hours, and indeed, he was a mere twenty minute drive from there. Plenty of time to… to…

The next thing he knew, he was there, having nostalgia'd his way through a clear hour of driving. Lago Salso, which made it sound unnecessarily cheerful, like a dance, he mused as he dragged the case out of the boot.

He paused.

He opened it.

He removed one item.

He looked around carefully and weighted down the case with rocks.

Then he took a deep breath, summoned every muscle his slim frame could offer, and threw.

As he watched it sink, he looked at what he held, and nearly threw that in too. But something overcame him, and he wandered back to the car, where he sat in the driver's seat and sobs wracked his body until none more would come.

Then, he pulled his balaclava over his face, took a look at the battered teddy bear on the passenger's seat, which regarded him now with hope, and smiled.

" _Come on_ ," he said in French, voice a little choked. " _This is a new life for us, Celine_."

Celine said nothing, but in Spy's head, she smiled and waved her chubby little fingers shyly. He sighed, and shook his head. This was a new start – a new job, a contract from some excavation company who wittily shortened themselves to 'R.E.D.'

In the lake, a trunkful of memories were left to sink into dark waters.


End file.
